head. “I don’t think so.”
“You hiding something from him?”
“What?” Randi asked, searching her friend’s face. “Hiding something? Of course not… Oh, I get it.” She shook her head and sighed. No one knew the identity of her son’s father; not even the man himself. Before she could explain, Sarah’s cell phone beeped.
“Oops. Duty calls,” Sarah said, eyeing the face of the phone as a text message appeared. “New films just arrived. Well, old ones really. I’m doing a classic film noir piece next month and I ordered a bunch of old Peter Lorre, Bette Davis and Alfred Hitchcock tapes to review.” She cast a smile over her shoulder as she hurried off. “Guess what I’ll be doing this weekend? Drop by if you don’t have anything better to do….
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I won’t hold my breath.”
Good thing, Randi thought, as she didn’t seem to have a moment to breathe. She had way too much to do, she thought as she turned on her computer.
And first item on her agenda was finding a way to deal with Kurt Striker.
“…that’s right. All three of ’em are back in Seattle,” Eric Brown was saying, his voice crackling from his cell phone’s connection to that of Striker’s. “What’re the chances of that? Clanton lives here but the other two don’t. Paterno, he’s at least got a place here, but Donahue doesn’t.”
Striker didn’t like it.
“Paterno arrived three days ago and Donahue rolled into town yesterday.”
Just hours before Randi had returned. “Coincidence?” Striker muttered, not believing it for a second as he stood on the sidewalk outside the offices of the Clarion.
There was a bitter laugh on the other end of the line. “If you believe that, I’ve got some real estate in the Mojave—”
“—that you want to sell me. Yeah, I know,” Striker growled angrily. “Clanton lives here. Paterno does business in town. But Donahue…” His jaw tightened. “Can you follow him?”
“Not if you want me to stick around and watch the condo.”
Damn it all. There wasn’t enough manpower for this. Striker and Brown couldn’t be in three places at once. “Just stay put for now. But let me know if anything looks odd to you, anything the least bit suspicious.”
“Got it, but what about the other two guys? Paterno and Clanton?”
“Check ’em out, see what they’re up to, but it’s Donahue who concerns me most. We’ll talk later.” Striker hung up, then called Kelly McCafferty and left a message when she didn’t answer. Angry at the world, he snapped his phone shut. All three of the men with whom Randi had been involved were here. In the city. Great… Just…great. His shoulders were bunched against the cold, his collar turned up and inside he felt a knot of jealousy tightening in his gut.
Jealousy, and even envy for that matter, were emotions Striker detested, the kind of useless feelings he’d avoided, even while he’d been married. Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe if he’d felt a little more raw passion, a little more jealousy or anger or empathy during those first few years of marriage, shown his wife that he’d cared about her, maybe then things would have turned out differently… Oh, hell, what was he thinking? He couldn’t change the past. And the accident, that’show they’d referred to it, the accident had altered everything, created a deep, soul-wrenching, damning void that could never be filled.
And yet last night, when he’d been with Randi… Touched her. Kissed her. Felt her warmth surround him, he’d felt differently. Don’t make too much of it. So you made love to her. So what? Maybe it had just been so long since he’d been with a woman that last night seemed more important than it was.
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t forget how right it had felt.
And it had been so wrong.
In an effort to dislodge images of Randi lying naked in front of the fire, staring up at him with those warm
“You hiding something from him?”
“What?” Randi asked, searching her friend’s face. “Hiding something? Of course not… Oh, I get it.” She shook her head and sighed. No one knew the identity of her son’s father; not even the man himself. Before she could explain, Sarah’s cell phone beeped.
“Oops. Duty calls,” Sarah said, eyeing the face of the phone as a text message appeared. “New films just arrived. Well, old ones really. I’m doing a classic film noir piece next month and I ordered a bunch of old Peter Lorre, Bette Davis and Alfred Hitchcock tapes to review.” She cast a smile over her shoulder as she hurried off. “Guess what I’ll be doing this weekend? Drop by if you don’t have anything better to do….
“Yeah, yeah, I know. I won’t hold my breath.”
Good thing, Randi thought, as she didn’t seem to have a moment to breathe. She had way too much to do, she thought as she turned on her computer.
And first item on her agenda was finding a way to deal with Kurt Striker.
“…that’s right. All three of ’em are back in Seattle,” Eric Brown was saying, his voice crackling from his cell phone’s connection to that of Striker’s. “What’re the chances of that? Clanton lives here but the other two don’t. Paterno, he’s at least got a place here, but Donahue doesn’t.”
Striker didn’t like it.
“Paterno arrived three days ago and Donahue rolled into town yesterday.”
Just hours before Randi had returned. “Coincidence?” Striker muttered, not believing it for a second as he stood on the sidewalk outside the offices of the Clarion.
There was a bitter laugh on the other end of the line. “If you believe that, I’ve got some real estate in the Mojave—”
“—that you want to sell me. Yeah, I know,” Striker growled angrily. “Clanton lives here. Paterno does business in town. But Donahue…” His jaw tightened. “Can you follow him?”
“Not if you want me to stick around and watch the condo.”
Damn it all. There wasn’t enough manpower for this. Striker and Brown couldn’t be in three places at once. “Just stay put for now. But let me know if anything looks odd to you, anything the least bit suspicious.”
“Got it, but what about the other two guys? Paterno and Clanton?”
“Check ’em out, see what they’re up to, but it’s Donahue who concerns me most. We’ll talk later.” Striker hung up, then called Kelly McCafferty and left a message when she didn’t answer. Angry at the world, he snapped his phone shut. All three of the men with whom Randi had been involved were here. In the city. Great… Just…great. His shoulders were bunched against the cold, his collar turned up and inside he felt a knot of jealousy tightening in his gut.
Jealousy, and even envy for that matter, were emotions Striker detested, the kind of useless feelings he’d avoided, even while he’d been married. Maybe that had been the problem. Maybe if he’d felt a little more raw passion, a little more jealousy or anger or empathy during those first few years of marriage, shown his wife that he’d cared about her, maybe then things would have turned out differently… Oh, hell, what was he thinking? He couldn’t change the past. And the accident, that’show they’d referred to it, the accident had altered everything, created a deep, soul-wrenching, damning void that could never be filled.
And yet last night, when he’d been with Randi… Touched her. Kissed her. Felt her warmth surround him, he’d felt differently. Don’t make too much of it. So you made love to her. So what? Maybe it had just been so long since he’d been with a woman that last night seemed more important than it was.
Whatever the reason, he couldn’t stop thinking about it. Couldn’t forget how right it had felt.
And it had been so wrong.
In an effort to dislodge images of Randi lying naked in front of the fire, staring up at him with those warm
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